RWBY Red Russian Roulette
by Water Ranger
Summary: Take a breath. Calm yourself. Take the gun. Count to three. Pass the test. Pull the trigger. After a war that left the world in ruins, members of Team RWBY place their lives on a spinning barrel. After all, it seems to be the only fair way of inflicting appropriate punishment. So just pull the trigger.
1. Chapter 1 - Runaway

RWBY Red Russian Roulette

* * *

Take a breath. Calm yourself. Take the gun. Count to three. Pass the test. Pull the trigger. After a war that left the world in ruins, members of Team RWBY place their lives on a spinning barrel. After all, it seems to be the only fair way of inflicting appropriate punishment. So just pull the trigger.

* * *

Me - Right at the junction and Vale maximum security prison. I've completely forgotten why I thought asking him to do this was a good idea. Anyways, I do not own RWBY or any of its characters. All rights to RWBY belong to their respective owners.

* * *

Chapter 1 - Runaway

* * *

Adam Taurus. He was leader of the radical Faunus organization known as the White Fang and led an insurrection that started a world war. His criminal record was extensive. His trial was quick. His sentence, that remains to be seen, although there was little doubt that it will be death. Now he sat, tied to a metal chair, in a darkened room, and flanked by guards. A pair of aura restricting cuffs placed on him. They were a gift from the Schnee dust company as an ironic twist.

The door opened, slowly, and creaking. A figure, black and white, with heels clicking, stepped into the room. A tip of the head signaled the guards. Out. The pair looked at each other, unsure, hesitant to obey. She gave a tongue click in anger. The guards stiffened and quickly made their way out of the room, closing the door with that same creakiness as it was opened with behind them.

"My cat has come to visit." Adam spoke in a low voice with a hint of superiority, or whatever superiority was left.

Ears twitched in annoyance. That is all he is now. An annoyance. A lingering footnote that needs to be taken care of. One last gamble to clean house.

"Darling..." she flinched at the nickname, ever so slightly. "How are you? I hear you were the only one to make it without any... permanent damage."

It was true. Through what ended up being a world war followed by a Grimm invasion, she had somehow made it through relatively unscathed.

Yang had...

lost her right arm.

Ruby was...

blind in her left eye.

Weiss was...

safe and sound in her own bed in atlas...

due to her being in a coma.

Blake was the only one more or less physically fine. Mentally, well, we're about to see.

She slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out the reason why she was here. With a soft clink, a revolver was placed in the middle of the table. The only light in the room gave a sickening shine to it.

Adam smirked. "Come to kill me, darling?"

Blake took a trembling breath. Nerves slowly stilled. "No. I'm here to play a game."

Adams eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's stopping me from killing you with it?"

Blake kept her breath as still as possible. "You."

Adam smirked again. She was right. Killing her would be too easy. No, seeing the fear, the sheer terror of her killing herself, knowing that if she dies, he can, just maybe, escape. "And how am I supposed to play while being cuffed to the chair?"

As if on cue, the magnetic restraints turned off. His hands, once cuffed to the chair, were now free. He rubbed his hands together as blood slowly returned to them. He picked up the revolver as if it was a toy and aimed it straight at Blake's head. Blake stilled. Her heart pounded a little faster but she made no effort to move. Calm. The appearance of calm. Adam smirked and popped the cylinder to the revolver. Easily spinning and popping it back in with one hand, he brought it up and placed it against his temple. With cool confidence, he pulled the trigger.

-click-

With equally cool confidence, he placed the revolver back onto the table and slid it across. Blake tried to keep a still hand as she picked up said gun and popped the cylinder. She confirmed what she thought, a single round inside, currently in the 6 o'clock position. She spun the cylinder and popped it back in. With a deep breath she brought the weapon and placed it against her temple.

Adam leaned back. "So, how's your partner's arm?"

Blake suddenly sucked in a gasp of air as memories flashed before her eyes.

...

Blake was laying pain as she stared up at the sky. Her aura had been all but depleted and her entire body ached but she didn't give it a second thought. She couldn't. She glanced to her side only to feel more tears run down her face. Lying next to her was her unconscious partner, Yang. A bloody bandaged stub was all that remained of her right arm. Blake strained to look away as she wiped the trails of tears rolling down her face. She felt guilt in the pit of her stomach. It was her fault. It was her fault for being unable to stop Adam. It was because of her Yang charged in to fight Adam. And, it was because of her, that Adam had sliced of Yang's arm in one clean stroke. It was to get to her. Blake rolled back over to look at her partner. She knew she couldn't stay. Yang wouldn't forgive her. Not after what had happened. She had to run.

"I'm sorry."

Tears were beginning to fill her eyes again. Blake reached over and grabbed Yang's hand, her only hand. She curled up and squeezed her eyes shut.

"I'm so sorry."

...

She pulls the trigger.

-click-

With a deep exhale she dropped the gun back onto the table and slid it across. Again with cool confidence, Adam spun the cylinder and placed the muzzle to his temple. "I see I hit nerve." He pulls the trigger.

-click-

The gun easily slid back across the table. Blake looked down at it for a second with what observers could only describe as morbid fascination. Again with struggling effort to still her trembling hand, she picked up the weapon, spun the cylinder and steeled herself as she brought it up against her temple. She felt the weight in her hand and now felt it as the weight of the game. He was playing the game. She was playing the game.

Adam remembered a familiar line. "An eye... for an eye..."

Memories again flashed before her eyes.

...

She looked into the hospital room through the hallway window. Blake felt practically nauseous as she stared at who was once the leader of her team. She was still laughing and smiling as she talked to her sister but it sickened Blake all the more. The bandages covered the left side of ruby's face. She wanted to vomit. The glint of metal from yang's new artificial arm made Blake felt dizzy and faint. She would've nearly collapsed had it not been for Weiss's hand on her shoulder.

"Blake." She spoke in a cool whisper that chilled Blake's spine.

Blake steadied against a railing. "How bad?"

"She's blind in her left eye." Weiss responded in kind and looked inside the room. "The rest of Team JNPR got her here." She grimaced out how calm and carefree Ruby seemed to be despite what had happened.

Blake looked down at her hands. "I should've been there." She gripped the railing tightly as she looked back into the room. Her eyes locked with Yang's.

Weiss tightened her grip on Blake's shoulder. "She… hasn't forgiven you for…"

Blake interrupted. "She shouldn't…"

Yang stood up and quickly made her way over the window. Blake caught a surprised look on Ruby's face. Yang, with a frown on her face, pulls the cord to close the blinds.

...

She pulls...

-click-

Blake exhaled the breath she didn't know she was holding in. "Where did you…"

Her hand now visibly trembling, she placed the gun onto the table, and slid it back over. Adam picked up the revolver and casually spun the cylinder.

"From an acquaintance." Adam smirked. "Why play?" He questioned.

Blake was taken slightly off guard by the question. A hundred thoughts ran through her mind as she came up with an answer. "Because, I've lost nothing. A war that hurt and killed so many and I succeeded in running away from any punishment I deserve. I should at least make sure you don't get away."

"And if you die?" Adam spoke as he brought the barrel to his temple in cool confidence.

"Then I get what I deserve, my punishment." Blake spoke barely above a whisper.

He pulls the trigger.

-click-

With one easy motion, Adam slid the revolver back across the table. Blake's hand was trembling. She no longer denied it. Her hand was shaking. She reached for the gun and placed her hand over it only to find it didn't have enough strength to lift it.

Adam grinned as he spoke. "Thinking about running away?"

Suddenly her hand was in a death grip around the revolver. She was sure she was hyperventilating. Her heart pounded and felt like it would leap out of her chest. She felt dizzy with swirling thoughts spinning through her head. To her surprise, one word emanated above all the others.

"Yes."

Her short breaths stopped. Her hand stopped trembling. She lifted the gun and it felt as light as a feather. She slid her other hand easily over the cylinder and spun. Then she pressed the barrel against her temple. She let out a long drawn breath and looked across the table. Across the table was Adam. This time, he was silent. And it was this time that she realized, was the first time she had looked him in the face. This time she realized, she was fighting him, not the gun. She felt her finger ghost over the trigger and a memory flashed before her. How he got caught. How he ended up here. How they ended up playing this game.

...

The once proud academy of Atlas, the HQ of Atlesian military might, was now in chaos. The White Fang were rolling through the academy slaughtering anyone who stood in their way. Practically nobody could since at the head of the pack was him.

"Weiss, we need to pull back." Blake tried pulling the heiress to turn and run.

Weiss was catatonic. As her friends were dropping one by one all around, there was a sense of... Déjà vu. Blake was pulling on her to get her to move but she refused to budge.

"No." Weiss stood her ground.

"Weiss it's him. We can't..." Blake pleaded.

"No."

"What?"

"No more running. No more retreating. I'm defending my home and my friends."

With those last words, Weiss stepped forward. Blake... well... she turned and ran.

When the dust settled, Blake came back, expecting the worst. Towers of ice crystals were all around her. As she made her way to the epicenter, she saw him. There he was, one of the most dangerous men in the world, helpless. He was entirely incased in ice, unable to move and knocked out cold.

Weiss had paid dearly for it. They rushed her to the nearest hospital. She was cold. Far too cold. The doctor only said one word. The rest was left unspoken. "Coma." We don't know if she'll wake up.

Her fingers felt raw and cold as it all faded. Nevertheless they moved effortlessly.

...

She...

-click-

As light as a feather, the gun was placed back onto the table. It practically flew across the table.

That cool confidence was still visible as Adam easily spun the cylinder. "Are you happy?"

"Yes."

He placed the muzzle to his temple and could've sworn he saw three of her in each eye. A low growl came from his throat.

"I still won."

-BANG-

Blake should've flinched when it finally happened. Oddly, she was still. Very still. In front of her was now a body with a mixture of colors red and pink. Her ears were ringing in pain. The smell of rust was now assaulting her nose. She licked her dry lips only to have an iron taste in her mouth. She could feel the splattered blood slowly rolling down her cheek.

Her legs ached as she finally stood up. The chair slid out easily underneath her. She turned and walked, heels clicking once more, door creaking once more, out the door once more. One last thought flashed before her.

"Run."

* * *

 **Inspired by the song Russian Roulette - Rihanna**


	2. Chapter 2 - Reputation

RWBY Red Russian Roulette

* * *

Chapter 2 – Reputation

* * *

Yang Xiao Long. The glint of her artificial arm shined in the moonlight as she kneeled near the edge of a rooftop overlooking a number of abandoned buildings. Ever since the war, and despite rebuilding efforts, large parts of Vale were still abandoned and ruins. An unusual shadow darting from alley to alley caught Yang's attention.

"Odd..." Yang whispered into the air.

She never quite fit the role of a stealthy night burglar. Sure, overtime she had learned how to operate in the night from one of the best but, she was always more of the type to bring the light to the night than anything else. Still, experience was experience and she knew from it that her target was moving quickly and not particularly carefully. She leapt off the side of the building and landed on the ground a little louder than she liked. She made do. Breaking into a sprint she kept her eyes and ears open. Her target was going to be difficult. If she didn't want to be found, she usually won't be. However, Yang knew her target and knew her well.

…

Putting one foot in front of the other, Yang made her way up the stairwell of a long destroyed office building. She couldn't help but smirked as she stepped onto the floor and found her objective staring back at her with wide golden eyes. "Gotcha." Yang whispered to herself as she placed one hand on her hip and shifted her weight onto one leg. "Hey Blake."

Blake was at a loss for words as a flurry of emotions raced through her. She wanted to speak, yell, shout, scream but it had all died in her throat.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue." Yang spoke while sticking out her own tongue.

Blake sucked in a breath of air as she began. "Yang... how did... how did you find me?"

"Well... you weren't very good at covering your tracks." Yang spoke as she walked pass Blake and into the darken floor. "At least, not very good at covering your tracks from your… partner."

Blake stood unmoving at the doorway as she mentally cursed herself. She had been sloppy.

"Cool if I turned on the light? Your night visions much better than mine." Yang didn't bother to wait for Blake to respond. With a snap of her fingers, she lit the candles on a nearby candle stand. The floor flickered to a glowing red light. It was a wide nearly open floor with a few torn and near destroyed walls to section certain parts off to form large rooms. A makeshift bed was laid out up against one of the few walls. A table with chairs sat up against the destroyed remnants of where two walls meet. Yang made her way over. "Strange how to have two chairs here." Yang spoke as she easily dropped down into one and causally leaned back on it. With an unusual ease, Yang pulled out a silver revolver and placed it onto the center of the table.

Blake's breath hitched.

Yang's mouth broke into a small smiling hearing it. "This is how you killed him, isn't it?"

Blake quickly made her way over to the table and reached for the gun only for Yang to pull it away from her with a wave of the finger and a tongue sticking out. "Yang."

"Blake."

Blake gave a glare but behind it all was fear. "Don't do this." She could feel her heart thumping as she tried to maintain any semblance of composure.

Yang's smile had turned into a frown. "Let's play a game."

"Please… Yang… Don't do this." Composure was thrown out the window and she felt tears welling up in her eyes. Her knees were beginning to buckle and she was near breaking down and begging.

Yang spun the cylinder.

Blake dove for the gun.

In one smooth motion, Yang shoved Blake up against the table as she brought the revolver up to her own temple and pulled.

-click-

The table rocked back and forth as Blake shoved Yang back into her seat as she nearly leapt off the table. "I won't play! I won't play this game with you Yang!" Blake shouted as she stumbled to regain her footing.

"Then I'll play for you!" Yang shouted back as she spun the cylinder and brought it to her temple once again.

Blake's face turned ghost white as all the blood drained from it from sheer terror. "No!" Blake lunged for the revolver and, this time, managed to get a grip on it. "I'll play!" Blake begged as tears rolled down her face. "I'll play!" She had broken down in sobs as her hand death gripped the revolver and Yang's hand holding on to it. "I'll play Yang… Please… Just don't… " Yang's hand relaxed as the gun slipped from her fingers into Blake's hands. Her breaths became gasps for air as she stared at the revolver now in her hands. It was the very same revolver that had ended Adam's life in front of her eyes. Her hands trembled as she spun the familiar cylinder and brought it to her head.

-click-

She looked at Yang through tear soaked eyes and saw only one way out. "I'm so sorry Yang…"

-click-

-click-

"No!" Yang had dove for the gun and wrestled for control over it with a still sobbing Blake. "You said you'd play the game. If you aren't going to follow the rules, then I won't either!"

"Yang!"

They struggled to gain control over the revolver and were pulling it back and forth. In the struggle the cylinder started to spin.

-BANG-

Silence... Yang didn't know if it was because she was deafened by the shot or if it truly was silent in the abandoned house. She looked across the table and saw Blake equally stunned. Stunned, but alive.

Blake's ears were ringing as she slowly found herself seated across the table from Yang. The round had discharged into ceiling and chips of concrete were falling onto the table between them. The gun had somehow landed in the middle of the table and was still slightly smoking. With a shaky voice, Blake spoke. "Your… turn…"

Yang shook her head and picked up the gun. She popped the cylinder and ejected the empty cartridge and replaced it with a new round. Easily spinning it with one hand, she pressed the gun to her temple.

-click-

Blake twitched at how easily her partner… her former partner, had just nearly blown her brains out. Yang was calm, cool, and collected as the gun was placed back into the center of the table. Adjectives that Blake normally would never be use to describe her. Yang should be anything but what she was now. She should be fiery, passionate, and headstrong.

"You've changed." Blake managed to utter out as she grasped for the gun.

"Yeah well, that tends to happen when the world nearly blows up. People change." Yang nonchalantly replied.

Blake flinched at the respond. Yang had no malice, no anger in her voice but Blake still felt its sting. Blake popped the cylinder and saw one round loaded in the 9 o'clock position. Her heart rate picked up again. Close. Closer than she'd like. She spun the cylinder and brought it to her temple. She could feel Yang staring at her. Watching her. She glanced up for a split second to meet Yang's eyes and pulled the trigger.

-click-

Blake exhaled as she brought the gun down to the table. In relief or in pain, she wasn't sure which anymore.

"Why…?" Yang leaned forward and spun the gun in slow circles.

"What…?" Blake glanced up again. Her hands were forced into her lap and were ice cold.

"Why did you kill him…?" Yang slowly, agonizingly, slid the revolver across the table. The strange sound of metal on wood murmured out as the cylinder spun. It spun, rolled, clicking as it traveled across the table.

"I didn't kill him." Blake whispered under her breath.

"You know what I meant!" Yang shouted as she slammed her fist into the table. Blake froze in fear as she stared wide eyed across the table. Once iliac eyes were now fiery red as Yang brought the gun to her face.

-click-

The table rocked as the gun was slammed down onto it. "Why. Did. You. Kill. Him." Yang gritted out.

"Because… I had to." Blake spoke with a cracking voice.

Yang wanted to shout back but to her surprise, Blake beat her to it. "Because he was going to escape Yang." She reached for the gun and her heart instantly dropped. _This is it._ She thought as her hand felt the cold steel. Her blood ran equally cold and bile burned the back of her throat. _So, this is what it feels like._ Her fingers wrapped around the grip.

"I knew he was going to escape." Yang spat out. "I was waiting for him, prepared for him; I still had business with him! So why Blake! Why did you kill him!"

"Because I love you!" Blake cried back.

"What…" Yang managed to mutter out in wide eyed shock.

Tears rolled down Blake's face as she shook her head. "I love you… I just… I couldn't bear the thought of you facing him again."

"But… Sun…" The gears in Yang's head were grinding to a halt in confusion.

"No… He… I couldn't… Not after the war… He just…" Blake took a deep breath to try and calm her choking sobs. "All I could think of was you. After all the things you went through, you were still there. Even when you hated me and was angry with me over what had happened, you still helped me when I needed it during the war. All I could think of after it all was… you. I realized that… I love you…"

"But…" Yang's mouth hanged open.

"I couldn't be with Sun when all I could think of was you." Blake spun the cylinder on the revolver. "I couldn't handle the thought of you losing anymore, or the thought of losing you. So I decided that I wasn't going to let him take you." Her hand trembled as she brought it up. "That's why I did what I did Yang." The barrel pressed against her temple.

"I'm so sorry."

Yang lunged forward. "BLAKE!"

"I love you…"

-BANG-


	3. Chapter 3 - Relative

RWBY Red Russian Roulette

* * *

Chapter 3 – Relative

* * *

Weiss Schnee. Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she made her way down the near endless and extravagant hallway. Her destination was the last door on the left, the door to her father's office. She stopped for a moment as her hand landed on the gilded gold door handle. It was elegant to a fault. She admired its beauty and took a deep breath in preparation. What she was about to do now was anything but beautiful or elegant.

As far as the world knows, Weiss Schnee was in a permanent coma. She was someone who gave the ultimate sacrifice for her kingdom, her family, and her home. She was a martyr, now being cared for inside the Schnee family manor. The less news about her meant more speculation of her health, and the continued growth of her martyrdom.

In truth, Weiss had woken up weeks ago confused but very much conscious. Her body ached when she moved, her mind was foggy, but her spirit pestered her to keep moving. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't go very far. Restricted to move only within the gates of the manor, Weiss could feel the creeping insanity in the back of her neck. It was the same walls, the same hallways, and the same rooms day in and day out. The constant eyes watching her every movement did not help the situation. So, she hatched a plan to make it all go away. It was a plan fit for the insanity she was being driven to. It was a plan that would make both her team back at Beacon and her Schnee name proud. At least, she thought so.

Her hand felt the clean ridges of the door handle. The moment lasted longer than she would've liked and while she'd deny the thought, it had crossed her mind to turn and walk away. The handle turned effortlessly and the door practically glided open.

"Ah, you should be in bed resting." Her father spoke in an air of false concern.

Weiss nearly scoffed at her father's immediate, near instant, answer to her appearance. She stepped slowly, carefully, into her father's office and closed the door behind her with a soft click. "I've been feeling much better since being allowed to at least roam around the manor." It was a slight jab at her situation.

"Nonsense." Her father waved her answer off. "With what you've experienced, rest is for the best." Her father set down the pen in his hand while moving some papers off to the side. His fingers crossed and his hands clasped together in a steepling pose while he leaned back in his chair. "Why are you out of bed?"

Weiss pulled out what she had taken from the heirloom room. An antique gilded revolver embroidered with the Schnee symbol. "Let's play a game, father."

Her father raised an eyebrow in confusion before furrowing it in disgust. "You are clearly unwell and are still in need of more bed rest."

"Pardon my language but, anymore bed rest and I may just blow my own brains out." Weiss spoke in a calm and collected manner.

Her father remained stone-faced. One of his eyebrows twitched for a split second. Schnee's don't break their image of perfection. Weiss knew the twitch wasn't one of concern, but of absolute glee. It was total, complete, absolute glee.

Weiss continued. "You've seen me as one to advance the Schnee name, but you want my brother as the true heir. Winter being sent to the military and her death… meant she is now out of the way. As for me, well you've wanted to disinherit me for some time now. Of course, disinheriting me after my supposed martyrdom would mean a public relations nightmare for you. So I propose we play a game. If I die, then you get what you've always wanted. If you die, well, I'm sure I'm more than capable of handling the situation."

Her father dwelled on what his daughter had just spoken. All of it was true and now Weiss is offering what he wanted most on a silver platter. The only problem was, the platter had an indistinguishable glass of poison placed upon it as well. "What if I simply disinherit you now? Quite frankly, PR can always be fixed with time."

"Go ahead, disinherit me." Weiss challenged. "You may strip the inheritance from me, but so long as I'm alive, I will have a stake in the Schnee family. Imagine the squabbling over the company. It would be a disaster for it."

"And if I walk out right now?" Her father quickly countered back.

"Then expect my brother to have a word with you. One last word." Weiss answered instantly.

"What makes you think he's on your side?"

"What makes you think he's on yours?"

"You're playing a dangerous game young lady." Her father stared Weiss down. "What makes you think anyone will believe you? What makes you think I'll play this game?"

Weiss didn't flinch. "You aren't one to turn down an obviously good agreement."

Her father narrowed his eyes as her. There was a moment of pause before his hand moved. It was a wave of confirmation. The game… was on…

Weiss placed the gilded revolver onto the table as gently as possible. She had found it in the heirloom room while mindlessly exploring the manor. She couldn't quite remember if it was the revolver that spurred this idea to begin with, or if she had actively searched it out. Nevertheless it now gleamed under the office light.

"Are you sure that old antique still works?" Her father spoke as he once again interlaced his fingers.

"Of course it still works. It has been cared for by a Schnee." Weiss promptly replied. She showed no hesitation. Hesitation meant weakness. Weakness in front of her father now would be deadly. The cylinder popped out easily and with the grace of a princess, she slid 5 rounds into it. She glanced up to her father and saw an instance of weakness in his eyes. His eyes had widened ever so slightly. With another slide of her hand, she spun the cylinder and brought it to her temple. The motion, the movement, staring death down the barrel of a gun, it was all a lot easier than she expected. If it was due to her encroaching insanity from being caged for so long or due to her own resentment for her father, she wasn't sure. She had faced death before. Every huntress mission carries the risk of death. Life as a huntress carries the risk of death. Still, she felt she shouldn't be this calm. If anything, her own calmness is beginning to make her cringe. Time slowed down to a near standstill. She could feel the chill of cold metal from the revolver on her hand. She felt herself inhale as her index finger landed on the trigger… and pulled…

-click-

Weiss brought the gun down and placed it in front of her father. It was a glinting revolver on a mahogany office desk. Jacques reached for it and reflected Weiss's movements as he picked up and spun the revolver himself. The entire setting was a mirror. They were two Schnees vying for control of a company. It was like himself and his father in law years ago. Now, he found himself vying for control, this time against his own daughter. The scene wasn't perfect and to a Schnee, perfection meant everything. After all, it was his daughter standing before him, not his son. He was confident he was going to win. He mirrored her movements as he brought the revolver to his temple. His confidence lost.

-BANG-

Weiss had to admit, she was surprised by the repugnance site before her. She nearly expected a Schnee's death to be the image of perfection. Instead, the sight before her was gory red and flesh-like pink. The splatter of blood, brain, and flesh stained the near perfect white and blue of the office. She half expected Schnee's to bleed white with the way her upbringing was. Before her was proof that even the rich and powerful bled red. The smell of death made her nose curl in disgust. The bile burned the back of her throat. She would be one of the few who knew how her father truly died, a repulsive sack of flesh barely distinguishable from a pitiful peasant. It was… appropriate…

…

"It's done."

Whitley face broke into a grin. "All preparations are done. An airship is ready for you in the courtyard to take you to Vale. Onboard is your weapon, a number of your belongings, a case of high quality dust and funds to support you for your first few months. Use them wisely as you won't be getting anymore."

Weiss gave a curtsy. "Thank you Whitley. As agreed, all shares owned originally from Winter and myself will be handed to you. With father's shares, and 2% being set aside in an unmarked account, you will have 51% of the company giving you full control."

"As agreed. As far as the press will know, you died in your coma and father died from heartbreak over losing another of his children and I will assume all Schnee shares." Whitley spoke matter of fact. "I would suggest cutting your hair short, and perhaps dying it to another color. With the new scar, you may not entirely look different, but enough to not rouse too much suspicion."

"I'm surprised that you are caring for me this much." Weiss raised an eyebrow.

"A deal is a deal, especially towards my sister. So long as you honor your side of the agreement of no attempts for control over the company. Besides that, you're welcome to the Schnee home at any time as a friend."

"Hmmm." Weiss mused to herself. "Friend doesn't mean much…"

"No. It doesn't…" Whitley waved his hand without much care.

…

Freshly dyed streaks of red ran through Weiss's now short bobcut hair that was kicked up by the rotors of the airship she was stepping onto. She leaned into her seat and gazed out the window as the airship took off for Vale. Pulling out her scroll, there was only one number she wanted to dial.

"Ruby"


End file.
